


The Game Begins

by InsanelyWriteful



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Aiden's dad is an asshole, Alien Invasion, Alien!Hannibal, Apocalypse, Dead by Daylight au, Empathy Disorder, End of the world scenario, Gen, Hannibal has no gender, Hive Mind, Horror, I want to warn for major character death but none of the main characters actually die, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prologue, Sassy Will Graham, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenage Aiden, The Entity - Freeform, Unbeta'd, currently, cursing, fixing boat motors in Louisiana, intended future MurderHusbands and ChocolateDogs, monster!Nigel, post-canon Nigel, pre-canon Aiden, pre-canon Will Graham, sassy Aiden Galvin, set up for main story, violence tag just in case it was a bit too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 16:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyWriteful/pseuds/InsanelyWriteful
Summary: While for everyone else, the world seems to be ending; for four very different beings, everything is only beginning.For Will, well, at least social niceties aren't his top priority anymore.For Hannibal, it has opened up a whole new realm of possibilities.And though Nigel wishes it were the end, it's not the end for him quite yet.Then there's Aiden, who sooooo shouldn't be dealing with this during the apocalypse.





	The Game Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terribly sorry for being so late on this one. >< Work in retail is hell this time of year. And I got so exhausted that I made myself sick again. Only this time, much worse. :') It's been a rough go of it, but I finally caught some writer's wind last night.  
The main story got away from me and has turned out much longer than I had intended. I was unable to finish it in time. So, I was scrambling to put together a piece to show what is to come. It was actually quite enjoyable to think up precisely where each character was during the beginning of the invasion.  
I apologize again, though I do hope you enjoy this story. ^^

_Will_

The day the Entity came was the day everything ended for most people. Only because most people didn’t survive the first day. And most of the ones who did wished they hadn’t. What came after was far worse than a simple alien invasion. It was a change to life that few could ever hope to adapt to.

Sadly, for Will Graham, it was the day things almost seemed to start making sense for the first time in his life. He’d been on patrol after a particularly strong reprimand from his boss.

_“You need to get a handle on that thing you do, Graham. You’re starting to scare people.” _

_“This is why people don’t want to work with you. You can’t just go all dead-eyed on the job and start talking like a serial killer. It’s not right.” _

_“I know it makes you good at your job, but your job is also to comfort people when things go wrong. You’re not good with people, Graham. You make the station look bad. You make cops look bad.”_

And, yeah, sure, his boss knew about his empathy disorder. Knew how hard it was for him to separate himself from people. Especially when he got too close. But that didn’t mean he _understood._ No one could understand what it was like to suddenly stop being one person and turn into another. And, hell, if he kept trying to push an explanation, he knew that would just land him in paperwork and out of the field. If he couldn’t handle people, why take the risk? Will had spent too long working to get where he was. He’d dealt with his problem his whole life. He wasn’t about to let it ruin his chance to do some good in the world. Even if it meant having to play social from time to time.

He shuddered, half-tempted to skip out early and go home to work on some boat motors to calm himself down. Doing mechanic work had always been soothing when his mind felt like it was jumping everywhere at once. A motor was both complex and simple. Enough parts and pieces to make him focus and remember where everything went, but always with a solution. A way to fix it. Nothing difficult to figure out.

If only simple wasn’t so damn boring.

Will cruised to a stop, deciding to get a cup of coffee to help him through the rest of the day. He cricked his neck and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses before entering the shop. It was his same routine. Avoiding eye contact. Being polite but not polite enough to invite anyone near him. Frankly, he’d become an expert at dodging conversation. One swift head turn or checking his handheld and most people didn’t bother him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced out the window as he waited in line. He frowned, squinting as a strange flicker caught his eye. Almost like the sky changing shape for a moment, the clouds altering course. He reasoned the odd occurrence away as a weird trick of the light. He was used to his mind playing tricks on him. Overactive imagination, his teachers had often said.

Still, he couldn’t help it as his mind started to wander. Imagining the blue of the sky starting to melt, big, fat dollops splattering down on the city, sizzling in the Louisianan heat. The bubbling hue spreading throughout the streets, coloring everything in its wake. The heat coming off of it making everything dissolve as the beautiful blue faded into a dark grey. He watched with a certain curiosity as the wave of grey brushed against the glass, beckoning him. It felt like he could reach out his hand and—

“Sir, are you all right?”

Will jolted, completely jarred out of his thoughts. His head snapped around towards the voice only to make direct eye contact with the girl behind the counter.

_I don’t get paid enough for this. Why do we get so many weirdos in here? Please, I hope he gets something and goes. I don’t want to deal with anymore—_

Will shook his head and closed his eyes, forcing the connection away. He muttered an apology and quickly bit out his order. He tried for a small smile of thanks but even he could feel how awkward it felt on his face and he quickly gave up and shuffled over.

Once he had his coffee paid for, he was out the door in record time. He sighed, relieved to be away from the crowd. He glanced back up at the sky, contemplating his life when he saw the strangest thing. It looked almost like a hole splitting the sky to allow what appeared to be giant spider legs to claw their way inside. Spores splitting off to flutter everywhere in sight.

Will hummed, actually intrigued by the particularly grotesque sight. He took a sip of his coffee, amused by what his imagination could cook up.

Then the screams started, catching Will’s attention as he looked up and down the sidewalk around him only to see people panicking and running. It was then, as he dropped his coffee and ran for his car, calling what he was seeing in on his handheld, that he realized the spider thing was most certainly not in his head.

This time, it was real.

**.oOo.**

_Hannibal_

Things were progressing along quite nicely. The planet had hardly been a threat and was defeated within days. The remaining remnants of the species proved worthy of little note beyond potential nourishment and fuel. The planet had been swept and evaluated. And before long would be dry of useful resources.

They had done a marvelous job. But, still, the rest of the universe was calling. Being kept to one place was unnatural. The urge to move on was as strong as it had ever been. The desire to consume. More. So much more than the dying planet could hope to assuage. They wanted to move on and, yet, they disliked the idea of wasting valuable resources.

A decision was made, agreeable all around. They would split and re-merge like they’d done in the past. They would move on and the piece left behind would gather the remaining resources and rejoin them at their next location, sharing the spoils. It was a splendid plan. And one they enacted right away as they shot out into the universe and left themselves behind.

. . .

. . . .

. . . . .

They . . .? No. No longer . . .

No other voices. No other thoughts.

There was . . . no one else. Just . . . it? It looked at itself and slowed blinked its hundreds of eyes, noting how out of sync they all were. It had never given its body a command on . . . its own before. It curled a leg, intrigued, as the joints obeyed its call. It moved and hesitated, half expecting a chorus of agreements or, for the first time, disgusted “no!”s at doing something on its own. But, hadn’t it been the plan for it to stay? But, that was before . . . before it had a choice.

It marveled at the strange sensations lone thought was giving it. It was . . . something? The ability to do whatever it wanted. In fact, it felt the need to prove it. To know without a doubt that it was itself now.

_This planet and all its resources are mine and mine alone. _

It paused, tilting its head, waiting for its former self to come strike it down. When nothing happened, the sensation crawled over it again. 

Well, now that it had had that thought . . .

It looked down at the planet. _Its _planet. Everything belonged to it. It had known power and strength before, but never in such an overwhelming wave, centered so strangely. It was a strange sensation. It didn’t know how long it looked on with such intrigue, choosing to do nothing, its first act of rebellion.

It was long enough for the inhabitants to come out of hiding. It watched them, fascinated. Did they truly think they were safe? How was it that they were rebuilding so fast? It noticed them forming groups, like it had once been, and realized its error. Strength seemed to lie in numbers. As intrigued as it was about the species, it didn’t care for their current behavior. They were trying to take its planet away. They were trying to take away its newfound freedom. It couldn’t allow that.

But, it found that it didn’t want to destroy the species, either. And not just because it needed the nourishment and was unsure if it could harvest another planet alone. No, it wanted the planet to thrive.

But not too much. Just enough to survive. Enough that it could look at it as long as it pleased before it tired of it. Though, it failed to see how it could grow bored of such a fascinating thing. It had never realized how empty its existence had been. Consuming and destroying with no thought of . . . savoring. There was so much more than nourishment and resources to the planet. It held opportunity. Significance. Meaning. Granting something more to what it meant to _be._

It wanted to see everything the planet and its species could show it. The rising sensation introduced a new type of hunger in it, so much stronger than the need to replenish or conquer.

Curiosity.

It had an undeniable thirst for knowledge. Ideas came to it all at once. Ideas that were its own. As it formed its own future, the pleased sensation tingled through it.

A splendid plan, indeed.

**.oOo.**

_Nigel_

His heart was broken.

He felt dead on his feet and wished he was.

_Fuck those aliens to hell and back._ He cursed, bitterly, as he stumbled aimlessly.

He honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck about some aliens taking over the planet. Everything had ended for him mere moments before the first attack.

_Gabi . . ._

His heart cried out at the mere thought of her. He couldn’t handle losing her. Not her. Not his darling Gabi.

But, she’d made her choice. She’d chosen _Charlie._

Nigel gritted his teeth, anger surging through him at the thought of the little worm. He took some mild comfort in the knowledge that he was dead. But, so was . . .

Nigel stumbled and yelled as loud as he could, tears rolling down his face. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

If only that rookie cop had been faster. It would have been over so quickly. He couldn’t live without her and with one shot he wouldn’t have had to. Instead, the sky had gone and opened up. Fucking chaos all around. It had been so quick! Spiders limbs branching out of the sky, impaling people and pulling them up.

Charlie’s ropes snapped and he dropped, landing right on a hook. And Gabi . . . ! He’d watched in horror as she’d rushed towards Charlie, even as he yelled for her to stop. It had happened so fast. One second she was crying out for _Charlie_, the next . . .

His beautiful Gabi was laying still with one of those damn hooks through her, being dragged up towards an endless void.

And the son of bitches didn’t even have the mercy to kill him, too. No, he’d stood there and survived it all. And he stood there some more even after the limbs receded, just hoping another wave would come. Then he stood a little longer. He didn’t know why. Probably because there wasn’t anything left to do but stand anymore. Maybe he hoped hunger would take him out. Or some really fuckin’ resilient mosquito.

But, he’d lost hope at even that. And standing where he’d last held her in his arms was too painful to bear once the shock had worn off. He just . . . he just couldn’t . . .

He kept moving forward. Maybe, with enough time, it really would be moving forward again.

“Hey!”

It took a couple more “hey”s before whoever-the-fuck managed to grab his attention.

He glanced at the guy from under his dirty, disheveled bangs, uncaring of the tear tracks on his face or how he looked any longer.

“You are Nigel, are you not?” he asked as some men behind him came close, carrying loot from the stores they’d been robbing.

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the crime boss of Romania anymore. He wasn’t the man who’d built an empire out of nothing. Now _he_ was nothing. And there was no building him back up anymore.

Nigel was dead.

“No,” he grunted and moved on.

Only to be jerked back around by hand on his arm. In another life, showing him such disrespect would have gotten the man killed. Now, he glanced at the man’s hand, unmoved.

“Don’t you lie to me, you son of a bitch! Because of you, my brother is dead! You killed him for selling in your territory!” He growled as he shook him. “He was only a couple of blocks in. Only a couple!”

Any other time, he would have told the guy to shove it and let him know that it was his brother’s own damn fault for being so stupid. Anybody with half a brain cell knew better. Basics were basics. And respect for boundaries were what stopped all out chaos.

But who the fuck cared about any of that shit anymore?

“What do you have to say, huh?” he yelled, spit flying onto Nigel’s face. “After all this time, I finally have you. Why? Tell me why!”

“I don’t care,” Nigel huffed out, barely mustering the energy to bother answering.

“What?” the man’s grip loosened in shock.

Nigel shoved him off, managing to gruff out a louder: “I said “I don’t care!” I don’t give a shit about you or your damn brother!”

Silence bore down on them as he and the leader faced off against one another.

“You motherfu—”

Nigel didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as the guy drew his gun and shot him. And kept shooting him. More shots from the side and he knew his men had joined in.

It hurt.

It hurt like the second worst thing to ever happen to him.

Nigel closed his eyes and died smiling.

Then, he woke up.

He wheezed, gasping for air, his whole body shaking, feeling off. Even to his own ears, his breathing sounded wrong. Everything felt wrong.

He dragged his heavy body until he could sit upright and got a good look at his hands. They were . . . grey? And huge! With longer, dirty, cracked nails. A glance at his body showed that there were more changes. Like the bulging muscles. Or the rotting flesh. But, one look also showed him his clothes he’d been wearing when he’d died. As well as the bullet wounds covering him, making him look like Swiss-fucking-cheese.

He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but . . . “Eeehhhh . . .”

Nigel blinked, taken aback by the noise that stuttered out of his own throat. Had . . . had that been _him?_

He opened his mouth and tried again. And, once again, nothing more than a hoarse croak came out.

What . . .?

_Hello. You are one of the few who have shown the skills and fortitude necessary to the accomplish the task I have issued. As such, I have granted you life. _

Nigel reared back, startled by the voice in his head. Wait, had he gone crazy instead of getting killed? What sort of fresh hell . . .?

_Now, you belong to me._

Nigel grumbled as the voice interrupted his thoughts, demanding his undivided attention.

_As one of my minions, you are assigned certain duties. You will hunt down the survivors and sacrifice those you catch to me. I will provide you all the tools necessary to complete this task. In exchange, I will provide you your own territories to keep as your own. You will remain in these territories and follow my commands. I will give you strength and durability like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. I doubt any survivor will ever be able to kill you. _

Nigel’s eyes widened, dread and horror clawing its way up his spine. No. Nonononono—

_Let the games begin. _

Fuckin’ dandy.

**.oOo.**

_Aiden_

Metal scraped against the pipe as he wobbled on his feet, getting dizzy from how long he’d been standing there, his arm held up by the handcuff. He heard heavy steps, a layer of dust falling onto his head as they grew nearer to the basement door.

_I hear you, you son of a bitch._

The door unlocked and in came Frank.

Honestly, he’d preferred the company of the mouse that checked in every once in a while for crumbs.

His camo pants were the first thing that came into view when he appeared around the bend, then the beginning of a beer belly(no matter how much he would say he was still fit—alcoholism would do that, though it was probably the drug addiction that was managing to keep him thin everywhere else), and finally his newly shaved head. Like the military would have beat back the aliens if only they’d taken him back into the fold.

Aiden curled his lip at his father, pouring every ounce of hatred he had in him into the look.

Frank glanced at him as though he were an afterthought(what else was knew?) and scoffed. “Are you still crying about getting put down here? I brought you down here for your own good. In case you didn’t know—since your head’s never in reality and always stuck in the clouds—there’s a war going on. And we sure as shit ain’t winning.”

He shook his head as he lit up a cigarette, blowing smoke in Aiden’s direction. “And I only cuffed you to that pipe because I know you would’ve run away again. Don’t know where the hell you get off thinking you can survive out in the real world. Hell, that’s probably why you thinking running will do you any good. It’s cuz you’re a coward.”

Another puff of smoke was blown in his face that had Aiden’s eyes watering, but he held his tongue. His father wanted a reaction out of him. It was his favorite game.

“You get it from your whore of a mother. Bitch ran off, too. Least she was better at it.” He knocked off some ashes. “I tried to knock it out of you, but some things are just ingrained, I suppose.”

Aiden gritted his teeth, but Frank kept on. “If you had any real guts, you wouldn’t run away. You’d stay and fight. That’s what real men do.” He snorted as he tossed his cigarette on the floor and stubbed it out.

As he turned away: “Do real men beat up on their kids?”

Frank turned, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say.”

Aiden tilted his head up, defiant and proud. “I asked if real men beat up on their kids.”

Before another word was said, Frank walked over to him and punched him in the face. Aiden hissed in pain. Both from his teeth getting rattled and the strain it put on his arm.

A finger was shoved in his face. “Don’t you mouth off at me again, boy.”

Aiden spit some blood out of mouth. His tongue was tender. Must’ve bitten it. He rolled his jaw before looking back up at him. “If that’s the case, I don’t wanna be a real man.”

That rewarded him with a punch to the gut. Aiden hacked on a cough, feeling all the air leave his body. His father followed up with kick. Then another punch. And another.

“No son of mine is going to be a pansy-ass weakling!” He grunted from the force of another swing. “An artist! A fuckin’ artist?! Where’s that shit going to get you now, huh? Is that drawing shit useful at all? It’s the end of the goddamn world and all you’re good for is playing with crayons!”

His arm was screaming from the force of being jostled around like a punching bag. The rest of his body didn’t feel so hot either.

“I’d rather be a pansy-ass weakling,” He locked eyes with his father again, blazing blue meeting poisonous green. “Than a piece of shit like you.”

“You disrespectful, worthless piece of shit!” Frank roared, rearing back for another round. “I’ll teach you to talk to your father like that!”

“Like father, like son,” Aiden bared his teeth in a mocking grin.

What could he say? He’d never learned when to quit.

A little while later, Aiden was left hanging limply by his wrist in the basement as his father stomped up the stairs and slammed the door in his wake. He weaved for another second or two before taking in a shaky breath, blinking his swollen eyes open.

He grinned, flashing bloody teeth. In his fit of anger, his father had forgotten to lock the door. Shuddering, he reached up and jerked his thumb out of joint, slipping free of the cuff. He crumpled onto the floor and took a second to recover, letting some of the blood flow back into his arm. He got up and looked around, rubbing his arm and hand as he went.

After finding a good weapon, Aiden crept up the stairs and slowly pulled the door open. 


End file.
